


Confronting Sunlight

by thegirlthatdoesnotofficiallyexist



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-06-22 02:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15571830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlthatdoesnotofficiallyexist/pseuds/thegirlthatdoesnotofficiallyexist
Summary: Patton is now not the central pillar of joy in Virgil’s life - which is good! But things start to get complicated when one buries feelings and avoids confrontation, and everything is tested when Patton’s reservations set something in motion that gets out of control.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings: This one may get a little heavy, MCD, hurt, blood, panic attacks. TW will be in more detail at the start of each chapter.  
> Whooop Sams back with a fic after a tonne of months. Why? Dunno.

Patton took many joys out of simple things. The way each morning that Logan would scratch away observations in a notebook at the breakfast table…the way that Roman would make sure the Father figure had his two lumps of sugar for his morning cup of coffee…the way the kettle whistled merrily on the stove.

However, Patton’s favourite moments, out of any day, were his glimpses of the rare, unguarded, and fleeting half smirk that would break across the Anxious Side’s face. His heart soared whenever one of his jokes hit just the right mark to cause Virgil to chuckle and let his guard down. It had been happening more and more since the dark sides’ name reveal. Patton kept a mental tally of these rays of sunshine through the often-cloudy features of Virgil’s outward demeanour.  

As he sat at the breakfast table, sipping his coffee, Patton couldn’t help but smile (albeit a little sadly).

Because someone had just eclipsed him in his ability to trigger the sun.

And that was good – fantastic even. The more Virgil felt like part of the group, the better it would be for him and everyone. Patton felt a little guilty over this small twinge of jealousy. He used to be the only one who could…

His son was growing brighter every day, and Patton supposed it was only a matter of time that Virgil began to open up to the others as much as he had done with him.

Well, one side in particular.

Roman’s booming laugh and heroic gestures were hard to ignore. He had the ability of lifting up any room he entered. Initially this was a problem for those who prefer to shrink away from the spotlight. But looking at the two of his sons playfully teasing each other with milk moustaches from their hot morning beverages, Patton had to admit that Roman had come a long way in his attitude to Virgil.

It was ridiculous that neither of them had come to the obvious conclusion yet, but Patton was better positioned to confront feelings that any other.

Breakfast ended with much of the usual: Roman loudly bidding farewell to all and going off on some magnificent quest…Logan leaving with a much more reserved decorum, going to his room to work…Virgil starting to help with the clearing and Patton fondly shooing him away.

Virgil smiled appreciatively and retreated to his room. He hadn’t got a lot of sleep and he was already calculating how much nap he could cram in that morning before responsibilities reared their heads.

And Patton was left alone with his thoughts.

It was exhausting, watching the two youngest sides engage in this tentative dance towards each other. Odd feelings he would rather not confront clawed away at his heart.

Why couldn’t he just be happy for them?

Staring at the plate he was scrubbing, he tried to do some soul searching.

_He was happy for them._

Then what?

Patton shook his head and with a massive effort, pushed it all to the back of his mind.

He would deal with it as he always does.

On his own.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman has a bad time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Blood, panic attack

Roman stood his ground and reviewed the threat. He was panting, bleeding from earlier tumbles where he was unable to get out of the way fast enough. He had been at this for what felt like hours now, and The Prince was slowing down with every parry. He had to get out of there – quick.

The problem was, he couldn’t exactly see his adversary.

“SHOW YOURSELF, YOU COWARD!” Roman threatened, trying not to let his exhaustion bleed into his authoritative tone. He was fine. This wasn’t the hardest battle he had ever faced, and he would be just as victorious on this occasion as he always has been.

He had sensed it as soon as he had entered the imagination for his daily quest. The hair on his neck rose and he felt an unfamiliar swoop of pure joy – there was something wrong, and he didn’t know what. Finally, the imagination was pumping out something interesting for him to best.

He had charged into the forest sword first, big smile on his face that had long since been wiped off. Roman wasn’t sure exactly when he realised he was in trouble…

Maybe it had finally sunk in when the sky went out.

There was silence as he tried to catch his breath, eyes flitting round trying to discern anything that could signal where the next attack would originate from.

Then a massive force came from nowhere and smacked him in his stomach, sending Roman flying. He just barely managed to cling to his sword as his back hit a tree, and he slid down coughing and struggling to breathe.

There was only darkness around him, so Roman knew the bright spots that had appeared in his vision were probably not fantastic signs. He groaned and tried to push himself up by stabbing the sword into the scorched earth and using it as leverage – only for his arms to give out and for him to collapse on his front. He groaned, lightheaded, and his vision swam even more. Every inch of him hurt and he was beyond exhausted.

Roman was very aware that the wet substance dripping down from his mouth was not spit.

He tried to sit up once more, but the force came again. It hooked him under his stomach and pushed him full force up against the tree once more, holding him there, off his feet. This time, Roman hadn’t been able to hold onto his weapon, but he finally got a sustained look at his foe…

It was as if a giants’ arm had been doused with black gunk. It extended out of the darkness and held him against the tree and as he struggled, the substance slowly engulfed him until it was up to his neck. The tree creaked ominously at the pressure and Roman scrabbled desperately as the dark substance closed uncomfortably round his throat. It felt hot, unbearably so, and he grew ever more lightheaded as his skin burned.

Roman blinked tears out of his eyes and tried to think straight…but all he could feel was fear. He was scared. God…could he die? Disappear? What would happen to the others, to Thomas? He had never been this close to death before, and as Roman truly gave in to a panic attack he realised that all his past ‘heroics’ and ‘quests’ had been child’s play…because he had been in control the whole time. Whatever this thing was, it was his first, real threat.

And it had beaten him.

“Stop”

It was more of a whimper than anything. But he didn’t know what else to do.

“Stop please stop…I’ll do anything…please I beg of you stop…”

But it persisted.

Roman nearly fainted from fear as he realised just how much danger he was in.

Cause he had final say in everything of his making.

And his ‘making’ couldn’t disobey him at the end of the day.

And this ‘making’ just ignored him.

And so, it wasn’t _his_ making.

Panic, uselessness, dread, shame, self-hatred…they all mixed into a gurgled scream that Roman didn’t even think was possible for him to make.

And all of a sudden…he hit the ground.


	3. Chapter Three

After finishing the dishes, Patton made to go to his room but hesitated. Maybe he should go talk to Virgil…or even Roman…

_About what?_

An odd look flashed across Pattons’ eyes, before he blinked decisively.

“You know, it has been a while since I made muffins!” He clapped his hands and an apron appeared around him, effectively quashing the train of thought. No he didn’t want to get onto that train…he didn’t know what station he would get off on!

Chuckling at his joke, and trying not to analysis it, he busied himself baking. He put his trusted recipe book in the book holder on the bench. Though he had every word committed to memory, the ornate book display had been made by Virgil for his birthday. It was purple wire – that Patton strongly suspected had once been a series of coat hangers – twisted together designed to keep the book open and off the bench (safe from spillage).

But he would not be focusing on Virgil’s creative gifts any longer!

“Sugar…Sugar, Butter….Sugar, Butter, Flour…” Patton softly sang to himself as he measured, mixed, poured and baked. Without even waiting for the muffins to cool once they were retrieved from the oven, Patton put them on a plate and walked happily to Virgils room. The hallway had four doors, and Virgil’s was the last. Patton knocked with one hand – the extra special knock known only to mean ‘muffins here!’ – and gleefully pushed the door open upon hearing Virgil’s consent.

“You didn’t have to, Padre.” Virgil grinned from his bed, where he was still nestled. Patton felt his heart warm as he laid the plate on his bedside table – noticing that his card from the ‘Accepting Anxiety’ video’s was still in its prime spot: tapped to the wall beside Virgil’s bed. Virgil took a bite from the first and let out a comic moan, rolling his eyes. “Fresh from the oven? My favourite! You’re the best, Dad!”

_You’re the best, Dad._

_You’re my best Dad._

_You are better Dad._

Patton shook his head.

“It was nothing! I just enjoy seeing you smile!”

Pattons chest was on fire with a feeling he couldn’t place. He settled on…satisfaction! Satisfaction that he had done something nice for the Anxious side. Yeah, that was it!

“We should all totally go to the dreamscape one day and get Roman to make you your own bakery! It could be a good family day out. We could call the shop: Patton’s Patisserie. And it would shut Princey up, he is always moaning about us all never going on quests with him.”

There was an odd ringing in his ears, and he barely heard himself answer with  _What a great idea kiddo!_

Patton didn’t stay long, as the muffin pile dwindled, he began to come back down to earth.

“I have some work to be doing!” He said with a goofy smile as he tousled Virgil’s hair. Virgil tried to hide the bemusement from his face. Oh Patton – always chugging along.

But Patton did not go to his room.

**

“Good Evening Patton, did you make…” Logan stopped abruptly as he came into the kitchen, taking the chaos in. “…dinner.” He finished, rather unsure how to process the scene.

Every surface was completely covered. The table was stacked with trays upon trays of everything from muffins to scones – the benches completely hidden beneath plates and containers of food. Patton was frozen, holding a mixing bowl. The father figure was covered head to toe in batter and flour.

“I am…confused?” Logan settled with, watching Patton carefully. “Patton, what is going on?”

Patton finally began to move again, getting over his shock of being pulled out of his rhythm. He looked around with wide eyes, realising the state of the kitchen. He opened his mouth, just to shut it several times, giving the impression of a fish out of water.

“Uh…well…” Patton finally spoke, locking eyes with Logan. “I guess you could say I’m…overcooked?”

Logan’s concern melted away to annoyance. “If you are just being ridiculous then I will take my leave. I do not have as much time for frivolous activities as it would seem some of us do!” Logan could not believe this. The HELL day he had had, and it seems Patton was here slacking off the whole time! No wonder Logan felt so burned out.

Patton blinked in the face of Logan’s animosity, and called out to him as he began to storm off.

“OI! This…look…Virgil is having a bad time and he likes baking…”

Logan paused at that, turning and meeting Patton’s desperate gaze.

“So you…helped him bake so he could calm down?” He was still sceptical, but his tone was softer.

Patton paused and for an awful second, considered going with it.

_Yes, the baking is good for him. He was so distressed, we had to make ALL these batches for him to even stop crying! I have been working so hard today to try and stop a breakdown…really, Logan, it was nothing…no you have nothing to apologise for…no, no we are all under a lot of stress right now, it is fine, I forgive you…_

“No.” Patton said firmly. “No, I did all this baking…for him.”

“Virgil did not help you?”

“No, he is in bed.”

“Did he ask you to do this?”

“No, it was going to be a surprise.”

“You did all this on your own, for Virgil, without his knowledge nor his encouragement, and made food in excesses that could feed a small formal gathering…in the hopes that such food would cheer Virgil up?”

Patton nodded, doing his best to keep the panic away from his features. He supposed, now, it seems a little crazy.

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Okay. I apologise for blowing up at you.” Noticing Patton’s expression of surprise, Logan sighed and elaborated. “I concede that I do not understand, nor do I frankly see the point of making more food than one individual could consume in a week, nor how it would cheer anyone up. However, you know Virgil best and are much more adept at displays of emotional affection than I. Ergo, I trust your ability in the face of my incomprehension at the lack of logic in your plan. If it helps Virgil…then I am not going to criticise your activities.”

Logan walked away, tiredly gripping the bridge of his nose. Patton stood, fixed in place once more, relishing that warm feeling in his chest that had arison once more.

_You know Virgil best._

_You know Virgil best._

_You know Virgil best._

Deep in the dreamscape, a Prince was let go and fell to the ground, after hours of battle.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: blood, pain, hurt

Roman had no clue how long he lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness. The world stayed dark and groggy around him, and the stench of burnt rubber hung thick in the air. Every inch of him ached and he did not even have the energy to be concerned over the fact that he couldn’t feel his legs…

He shivered uncontrollably, but the sweat on his face suggested a different dilemma.

Finally, Roman managed to let out a whimper that scraped through his throat and escaped passed his chapped lips. It was followed by another, then a broken sob signalled that Roman had landed on the decidedly more conscious side of his dance.

And with consciousness, came fear.

_What was that thing?_

_Why did it leave?_

_Am I dying?_

The fallen Prince scrunched his face and blinked hard, trying to see anything in this foggy hell-scape that could give him an idea or clue of what to do next.

I want to go home.

_But the monster…_

I’m hurt.

_But it could follow me…_

That would not do.

With tremendous effort, Roman used his arms to push himself up, screaming from the agony it provoked. His arms wobbled then collapsed, sending his torso crashing back down to the ground with a sickening thump. There was a sharp spike of pain and for the first time Roman dimly registered that there was something lodged in his back.

“Come on Roman. Come on.” If he meant to reassure himself, the weakness and fear in his shaky tone just further terrified him and he tried not to vomit from the surge in panic he felt. Instead, he tried again.

“Come on Roman. You can’t be defeated. You have to FIGHT…. arrrghhhh…” His face contorting in pain and nearly fainting from the effort, Roman managed it. As his elbows locked into place as he achieved an upright position, he let out a desperate giggle.

But he froze, panic squeezing the air from his lungs.

It had been just out of his vision before, but just in front of him hung the slowly pulsing ball of black slime…almost seeming if it was watching him.

Roman was paralysed, no thought able to penetrate the thick cloud of fear in his head.

He was in danger. He had to move.

_I can’t move._

The thing just stayed there, hovering in one place. It looked peaceful.

Roman gulped.

It was hovering over his sword.

*

Logan fretfully paced in his study in front of the whiteboard. His study was well lit, if simple, but the space was his little niche. A bookcase covered one wall, his desk lined the opposite next to the door that led to his bedroom. His floor-to-ceiling whiteboard covered the third, and the fourth was lined with shelves bursting with equipment and tools. Logan chewed the end of his marker as he stopped to review what he had so far:

The word “WEIRD” in the middle, with a small list of symptoms beneath it.

Logan sighed, and racked his brains.

Patton had been helping him in research to better understand feelings, and they had come up with a process. However, it wasn’t working very well in practice.

He felt WEIRD.

A bad WEIRD.

He couldn’t figure out when it had started, or where, or what had kicked it off – so the first three steps were rather crucially missing.

Taking a deep breath, he looked towards his desk. A picture of his family was stuck to the wall in front of it. He found it always – okay, occasionally – made him see clearer when he was working. It had been a good day when it was taken, they were celebrating the New Year. Roman was wearing a ridiculous suit that was entirely encrusted with glitter, and sunglasses (WHY Roman insisted on wearing them after dark was STILL a mystery to the Logical side). Next to him was Thomas, looking as sweet and innocence as ever in his Steven Universe T-Shirt. Patton had his arm around Virgil and…

“Wait.” Logan muttered slowly, moving forward to snatch the picture. “There is a lead.”

Quickly, Logan scribbled ‘Patton and Virgil’ on the board underneath “what”.

“So …judging by the unpleasant increase in the feeling upon that visual, it has something to do with them…” ignoring the implications of the source, Logan started scribbling down every interaction he had had with either side for the past week. He paused on the cooking incident from the day before…

“Why did it bother me that Patton made so much food?”

Rather tired after the burst of activity, he sat back in his desk chair and grabbed his coffee off the table – taking a sip with a sigh. He turned to the small plush unicorn toy which sat on his desk that Roman had made him once. Logan found that verbally talking through his theories and thought processes was the optimal way to tease out his genius, and the unicorn made him feel less like a mad scientist talking to thin air.

“So this involves Patton and…food? No you’re right Fred, I don’t think the food bothered me in general. We are figments after all, maybe it would be a valid concern in Reality where the food wastage is an ethical issue…”

Fred the Unicorn continued to stay the inanimate object he was.

Logan sighed, drinking more coffee. His stomach grumbled and he chuckled a little.

“Seems I could use some of Patton’s overcooking now, huh Fred?”

Woah.

Logan stood abruptly, sloshing coffee down his front.

“Fred…Oh my god…I’m JEALOUS?” Logan sounded disgusted. “What kind of….urghh.” Logan threw his marker at the whiteboard. “Well that was all pointless. I am being a child. Fred I just used a theory I invented to prove that I am acting like a spoilt child. That’s…that’s…urgh…”

Logan closed his eyes, and the image from the picture popped up. There it was – he was jealous of Patton’s friendship with Virgil. A new emotion – self-loathing – washed over him.

“Friendship, or…?” Logan’s eyes snapped open, cheeks hot. “NOPE.” He jumped up and left his study. “Enough science for today. Nope, nope nope.”

He crashed onto his bed, trying to block out the barrage of thoughts running through his brain – it would seem his moment of eureka had unleashed a dam he was unaware was forming. He groaned as he realised what he would have to do.

He needed to talk to someone.

And there was only one person left.

“I am so going to regret this.” Logan grumbled, as he left his room and knocked on Roman’s door. Virgil moved passed behind him, heading to the kitchen where Patton was currently making dinner.

Virgil gnawed his bottom lip as he saw Logan approach Roman’s door. It had been a whole day, and true to fashion Virgil was growing worried about the creative side. Usually absences were explained beforehand. He heard Patton in the kitchen and smiled. Patton knew what everyone was up too…

“Hey, Patton…”

*

“What do you want?” Roman croaked, trying to sound braver than he felt.

The thing just hung there.

“Can…can I go?”

Nothing.

Roman held his breath and slowly lifted his arm out to test the water.

Nothing.

“I’m…I’m going to go.”

Nothing.

The Prince began to slowly shuffle backwards…but froze when a bright bolt of lightning came from nowhere and struck the beast.

He screamed as it sprung to life and shot towards him with dizzying speed.

“ _NO_!”


	5. Chapter Five

There was no reply to Logan’s knocks and he frowned, racking his brains as to why Roman would be out so early...he usually wasn’t out and about til Patton called them for breakfast...

Clearing his throat, he knocked again.

“Roman, it is Logan, I am requesting entry...” He held his breath, barely registering the dull voices of Patton and Virgil in the kitchen. The thought of that made him feel even worse, and in that moment Logan did something rash.

“I’m coming in!” Logan warned, pushing the door open. The Princes room was extravagant as always, a crystal chandelier hung from the painted ceiling. It was a dynamic image – always different depending on Roman’s fancies. Currently it reflected a peaceful sunset, though the colours were duller than usual. Roman’s four poster bed was neatly made, and the door to the ensuite ajar. Logan’s quick glance told him all he needed to know: Roman was not here.

Grumbling, he cracked the bedroom door open, put paused as he saw Patton and Virgil close Patton’s door with a thud. Logan swallowed, not entirely certain how to process the feelings welling up inside him. He shut the door carefully, suddenly wanting to find Roman even more.

He sighed and walked towards the wardrobe, and straightened his tie in an effort to ground himself.

“This is not illogical. You are looking for Roman, not avoiding the others. It is a sensible reason to put yourself through the imagination...” Logan hated it in there, mainly because he was not in control, and did not know the rules.

Gritting his teeth, he gripped the door handle and swung it open, entering the dreamscape in a brilliant flash of light. The world melted into view and Logan’s frown grew deeper.

He had to be in the wrong place... Roman was known for creating spaces that sprawled for as far as the eye could see, but the scene in front of him looked like a poorly loaded video game. Apart from some trees and scorched earth, Logan felt as though he had walked onto a floating disc and suddenly felt claustrophobic.

“Ro-Roman?” Logan cleared his throat, all thoughts of Patton and Virgil pushed from his mind to make room for his growing discontent.

_This is not right._

He heard a light sob at the same time a drop of black goop splashed on his shoulder. Logan froze, and slowly raised his eyes skyward.

*

As soon as Virgil had mentioned the wayward Prince, he knew something was wrong. Patton somehow flushed red and went pale at the same time, while his facial features became oddly still.

“Pat...are you, feeling okay?” Virgil swallowed. Patton looked sick. “I am sure he’s fine, probably just doing his make up he’s been working on it a lot lately...” Stupid Virgil, you’ve gone and worried Patton.

“Oh, has he?” Patton’s voice was light and airy. He chuckled and shook his head out of his stupor. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Yeah, he came to me asking for tips...” Virgil added, the feeling of adrenaline snaking into his veins.

Patton just smiled at him. “Aw. I’m so proud of him for asking for your help.”

“Are you okay...Pat? You look a little ill...”

Patton opened his mouth, but sighed instead. “I’m not actually feeling too dandy at the moment to be honest. Would you...would you sing to me?”

Virgil blinked in surprise at the odd request, but smiled. “Of course Dad.” The relief was heavy on his tone. “Hey, I’m proud of you for being more honest with your feelings.”

_Everything was fine. Patton was just feeling sad. He could fix that._

“How about we go to your room with ice-cream, huh?” Virgil hated singing in public, but in private he felt safer. His heart drowned out any worries he had as it warmed in the presence of Patton’s sudden, blinding smile.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan finds Roman.  
> Patton begins to fear... something?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: blood, injury, medical.

Patton was getting scared.

The terrifying darkness that rose from within him whenever Virgil showed any interest in anyone else was starting to have serious effects on him. He felt physically sick, and sweat would break out on his forehead from the effort to keep from retching.

And then there were the nightmares.

Patton shivered as he snuggled into Virgil’s chest as he sang. The deep reverberations of his voice and heartbeat combined to make a curious symphony, but it just made his heart constrict further.

_What’s wrong with me._

He couldn’t shake the awful images of Roman from his nightmare...

Hurt...

Bleeding...

_Out of the way..._

Patton gulped and squeezed his eyes shut. Virgil’s grip on the Father figure tightened.

Something was wrong.

Something was wrong.

*

_Something was terribly wrong._

Logan’s voice died in his throat.

His fists clenched by his side as his brain went into overdrive.

Above him was a floating mass of...gunk. It was writhing lazily but what shocked the logical side was not its impossibility of suspension, nor its unknown chemical compounds...

It was the fact that a hand was sticking out.

“Ro-“ Logan whispered, absolutely terrified.

*

Somewhere far away, the Prince heard his name.

He could barely hear it over the loud humming in his head. He felt like he was underwater...but breathing.

He just wanted to sleep, but something in that voice pierced through the haze and suddenly Roman was aware of just how much pain he was in.

Roman clenched his hand, and did his best to move – even though it felt he was moving in slow motion.

_My sword..._

He didn’t have his sword.

He began to despair, the mass around him refused to budge. His mind was drowning in something he could not quite place.

And then, someone pressed something silver and heavy into his hand.

The touch sent electricity through him as he yanked his hand backwards, bringing the sword with it. The sword pierced the dark matter and the thing released Roman, who fell to the ground with a yelp.

Logan unfortunately, got in between Roman and the ground.

He straightened his glasses, getting ready to scream at Princey for scaring him with his pointless tricks, but the sight of the Logical side sent a spike of adrenaline up Roman’s spine and kicked him into action.

“Stay down.” His voice was hoarse and authoritative and the Prince didn’t wait for Logan to respond before rolling onto his back and jumping up, sword outstretched. His enemy hung there above them benignly. It looked almost peaceful.

“Roman, what-“

“Back. Away. Slowly.” Roman didn’t take his eyes of the thing, remembering all too painfully the last time he had thought he had a chance to escape.

Logan gulped, but decided to obey. He didn’t want to mess around in the imagination, but if Roman was messing with him he would have hell to pay. Logan slowly rose to his feet, and moved back towards where the door ajar to Roman’s bedroom stood.

As soon as they were a foot away, Roman turned and tackled Logan through the door, slamming it shut behind him and shoving his sword through the handles in an attempt to lock it.

Logan wheezed, pushing himself up from the ground where he had been unceremoniously thrown.

“Roman WHAT the HELL- “

“Are you hurt?”

Logan looked up. Roman had his back to him, still gripping the handles of the wardrobe. It was only then that the fear returned. A broken branch was sticking out of Roman’s shoulder-blade, and his outfit looked like it had been washed in a muddy river.

“No... I’m fine...” Logan said quietly.

“Oh thank goodness.”

Roman slumped a bit against the wardrobe before turning around and collapsing on his knees.

~ 

 

Roman felt all his pain and injuries hit him at once and he suddenly had to refrain from painting his wardrobe unceremoniously with puke. He opted to fall dramatically forward instead, hoping that Logan would stick around and help him out a little.

He was dimly aware of Logan talking to him, but Roman just shook his head. One word pierced through his haze: _Patton._

“No!” He suddenly grabbed Logan’s shirt, unable to string together any more coherent thoughts as to why that was a bad idea. Logan clued on very quickly, although it only increased his bewilderment and concern.

“Roman, I am going to roll you onto your stomach so I can assess your back injuries. Show me any sign that you understand.” Logan tried to switch himself into medic mode – which was surprisingly easy considering how shaken he was. He supposed it had something to do with the influence of Roman’s room – he had a role to play after all, it makes sense that the room would help him focus on it.

Roman let out a small grunt, and allowed himself to be rolled over, though he drew a sharp intake of breath as soon as his ribs had to bear his weight. Logan filed a mental note for later, needing to take the object out of the Princes back first and foremost.

Logan looked around for a rag of some sorts and cursed the immaculate room, before getting an idea. He took off his tie.

“Here, bite down on this.” Logan said, not unkindly. Though Roman made no indication he had heard him, he opened his mouth and clamped down on the tie, trying not to show the logical side the tears in his eyes.

Logan steadied himself and got to work. First he cut Roman’s shirt away (what remained of it at least) with a pair of sewing scissors he had found in a sewing kit under the bed. He kept up a steady hum as he worked, mainly to keep himself focused and on rhythm, but he hoped his patient would find it comforting in some way too. Roman’s room seemed to provide him what he needed, though it was slow in conjuring it (something he tried not to read into too much). Instead of a first aid kit appearing in full, an empty box showed up that slowly filled up with new equipment over time.

By the time Logan had finished cleaning around the wound, taking the stake out (he doubted he would ever get the teeth marks out of his tie), sterilising and applying pressure, he had a full kit to his disposal.

“Ro, I’m going to keep working and I will not keep trying to engage. However, I need to know some basic facts.” Logan tried not to start to fret at the amount of time it was taking just to attend to Roman’s back – the cuts and bruises formed were worse than he had ever seen one of the sides sustain, and he could only imagine what his chest was like given the grunts of pain from earlier.

“Mmmm?”

“How...How long- “

Roman shook his head ever so slightly.

Logan kept cleaning and bandaging Roman’s damaged back, as he deciphered the meaning of the reply.

“You don’t know?”

A grunt.

“I’m finished with your back now, I am going to try and sit you up and prop you against the bed, okay?”

Another grunt. Logan tried to not feel so impatient.

It took a while. Logan was alarmed how weak Roman was. He racked his brains as to when he last saw him.

“Breakfast? Did you go in... there... after the last time you saw me at breakfast?”

A grunt.

Logan pulled away the rest of Roman’s shirt and tried not to wince at the damage. The bruising indicated damage to the ribs, they could even be broken. Logan swallowed.

“Have you slept since then?”

Roman’s dull, tired eyes met Logan’s. He was thankful, but also scared. Logan moved without thinking and grabbed his hand. Roman flinched – it was the first positive contact he had had since...it felt like forever.

“Squeeze once for no.”

Roman squeezed once.

Logan continued applying a soothing salve with one hand, the other refusing to let go of Roman’s one.

“Eaten?”

One squeeze.

“Drank?”

One squeeze.

Logan sighed.

It took another hour before Logan was happy that he had assessed and started to patch up the Prince. Roman had drifted out of consciousness the whole time, looking more vulnerable than Logan had ever been allowed to see him. It was that fact, the utter trust in Roman’s eyes, that kept Logan from grabbing Patton and Virgil.

Roman managed to drink a glass of water, and Logan nipped out and grabbed a plate of scones (thank god Patton had made like a thousand.)

Looking at his charge, tucked into bed (Logan had surprised himself with that effort, no need to go to the gym this week), Logan allowed himself to release a little bit of the tension he felt within. Roman looked more like he was attempting to do a shitty cosplay of a zombie, but at least he was breathing.

And then there was the wardrobe...though it could have been Logan’s imagination (being in the creative room, after all.)

Logan swore he could hear it rattling.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Blood; yelling; mild violence.

Roman dozed fitfully, grunting and whimpering. His face was blanketed by a sheen of sweat. Logan kept a damp cloth on his forehead.

When Roman’s eyes flew open, he didn’t even have the energy to cry out. Logan was by his side in an instant, though his hand shook as he grabbed the Princes clammy one.

“Shhh, it’s okay Roman.” He soothed, running his fingers through Roman’s hair – a move he had learnt off Patton.

Roman’s eyes looked a little wild, but he fixated on Logan’s ones, grounding himself in their reality.

“I suppose you want to know what happened...” He finally croaked, grimacing at the thought.

His voice works, that’s good.

Logan repressed a shudder.

“I think I have a good idea about what happened...”

Roman looked confused for a solid second before groaning and blushing red.

“That fucking ceiling...”

“Yes. I’m-I’m sorry. I only stayed to watch so I could gain a better understanding of your ailments...you fought well.” Logan tried not to think too much about it. The ceiling had reflected Roman’s trauma by playing out the whole tale above him as his nightmare recollection progressed.

Roman snorted, looking away in shame. He had been beaten...thoroughly. Logan had never witnessed Roman begging before, and he never wanted to see it again.  
“What I do not understand is...how Patton is involved.” Logan gently needled, trying his best to be delicate.

“I... I’m not sure why...” Roman struggled to piece his head together.

Logan had to bite his lip and tried not to let his frustration bleed into his expression. He hadn’t minded putting the work in – of course he hadn’t – but he was exhausted, and it had taken a toll. Having Patton with him would have sped the process up a lot and been beneficial for both him and Roman.  
Logan had, however, begrudgingly began to allow for “gut feelings” to factor in to his logic, though he could not help but start to question Roman’s mental capacity to assess threat…

“Easy there, specs.” Roman’s eyes were closed, but he could sense Logan’s internal struggle. He cracked a smile. “I know it isn’t logical… I just…”

“I apologise Roman.” Logan cursed himself. “I trust your judgement and I am sure there is some valid reason to your suspicion, given the extreme reaction you had to the mere suggestion of… of him.” Logan sighed, feeling confused and fearful. “What do you want me to do?”

Roman opened his eyes, thinking hard. “How long did you say I’ve been gone?”

“Around two days… nearly three by now I suppose.”

“You’ll have to tell the others I am alright.”

“That is patently false.”

Roman groaned. “I don’t have time for this. Objectively I am alright as I am out of danger and on the mend, yes?”

Logan huffed. “I do not like to lie, Roman. NOR stretch the truth.” He added at the sight of Roman opening his mouth to retort.

“Don’t make me beg.”

Perhaps he had meant it to sound sarcastic, but Logan blinked at the break in Roman’s voice. Roman coughed it off embarrassedly.

“Fine. I’ll tell them you had an altercation in the Imagination, and that you are recovering, but fine.”

Roman grabbed Logan’s hand as he made to leave and gave it a quick squeeze. If he was being honest with himself, he was scared of being left alone… but Virgil had to come first.

Logan smiled sympathetically and squeezed back. “I’ll be right back, try to rest.”

He closed the door quietly, trying not to let his shaky hands rattle the doorknob. A series of ‘what ifs’ ran through Logan’s head – what if he hadn’t thought to give Roman his sword? What if he hadn’t made the stupid decision to go into the imagination in the first place? What if he hadn’t gone to talk to Roman…

Clearing his throat and wiping his glasses quickly on his shirt (having mysteriously fogged up suddenly) Logan checked first the common room, then the kitchen. Both being empty, Logan sighed.

Were the pair of wayward sides still in Patton’s room? After all these hours?

The unpleasant feeling twisted in his gut once more. Logan reminded himself to talk through his apparent jealousy with Roman when he was feeling up to it.  
He cleared his throat as he knocked and heard a shuffle from within.

“Patton, Virgil…I need to talk to you…”

There was a beat where he held his breathe, before Patton cracked the door open looking puffed.

“What’s the password?”

Logan sighed as he heard Virgil giggle behind him.

“May I come in?”

Patton’s smile hardened, and Logan could almost see the question bounce around his head.

Patton bit his lip. “Logan…now’s not actually a good time…” He began to slowly close the door.

“I found Roman.”

“What?”

There was a shuffle and Virgil pushed passed Patton and opened the door.

“Where is the bastard? What happened? Is he okay?” Virgil tried to read Logan’s expression but found that book closed. Virgil tried to quell the panic that had been bubbling within him since the Princes absence became conspicuous.

Logan opened his mouth, but hesitated. The orchestrated response was on the tip of his tongue, but he was so tired and fatigued himself…the thought of further secrecy made his stomach turn.

The hesitation opened up Logan’s guarded reaction to scrutiny however and Virgil saw all he needed to see for his heart to jump into his throat.

“He’s hurt, isn’t he? Oh god, is it bad? Is he awake? Is he dead? Can we die? I should have checked on him sooner. Logan – where is he?” Virgil’s voice plunged into a gravelly ravine as his panic swelled. His hands balled to avoid tearing his hair out.

“There, there kiddo, I’m sure he’s fine…” Patton gently gripped Virgil’s shoulder, who recoiled instantly and pushed into the corridor.

“No Patton! We’ve waited long enough. I said I didn’t feel right about it and instead of listening to me you distracted us both with pointless…” Virgil stopped, realising his mistake in the tears of Patton’s eyes. He swallowed, and took a deep breath to steady himself…

…When the Prince himself made a regal entrance to the crowded corridor by being thrown through his door.

Wood splinters spewed into the air like confetti and Roman hit the wall opposite. The remains of his door fell down on top of him as gravity pulled the Prince down.  
Logan instinctively grabbed Virgil’s arm as he went to race to Roman’s side, pulling him back.

“Wait.” Logan warned, remembering the creature all too well. Virgil just hissed at him and pulled away. Patton stood stock still in his doorway. “Virgil be careful, the creature it…its…”

“It’s gone.”

The voice was small and croaky, as Virgil pushed the debris off its owner. Logan went into Roman’s room, searching with bated breath. The closet was open, revealing only clothes. No monster lurked here…now…

“Virgil, help me get him into the common room.”

Roman was groaning, and from the blood seeping into his pyjama shirt Logan guessed that some of his handiwork had burst open on impact. Virgil wordlessly grabbed Roman under one arm, while Logan grabbed the other. Together they helped the crippled Prince onto the couch. Patton followed wordlessly, white and shocked, all fatherly charm gone from his stature.

Roman blinked a few times, but upon his vision coming into focus, seized at the sight of the frozen father figure in the doorway.

“Patton, could you go into Roman’s room and get me a towel, a bucket and the first aid kit?” Logan said quickly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Patton nod stiffly and disappear. Suspicion spiked in Logan’s overrun mind, but he pushed it aside for now. Roman relaxed and Logan set upon undoing the stained pyjama shirt to reveal the damage below.

Virgil had the good sense not to continue his interrogation, but Logan could see that the Anxious side was almost shaking with the effort. Logan tried to think of some form of comforting words, but he was too busy making a mental list of each wound that required re-stitching.  
Roman grunted in pain, but with massive effort he brought his arm up and grabbed Virgil’s hand, giving it a weak squeeze. He looked ready to faint but was hanging on to his last shred of consciousness with an iron fist. Virgil tried to hide his sudden flush.

“When did it come back Roman?” Logan prodded gently, grabbing the communal first aid kit from the kitchen, given Patton seemed to have gotten lost. “Can you give me any indication of your timeline after I left?”

Through clenched teeth, Roman grunted. “It appeared and immediately threw me through the door, then disappeared a split second later.”  
A theory started to form in Logan’s head, but its unpleasantness caused him to push it aside for one moment. The scene demanded Doctor Watson, Sherlock could come in later.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit hits the fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be as bad as the violence gets. TW for blood, vomiting, breathing issues, and (spoiler) sword injury.

Logan collapsed in the armchair after his work had concluded, exhausted to the bone. Roman had slipped in and out of consciousness for the patch up job, but he never lost his grip on Virgil’s hand. One thing had become increasingly obvious though: Patton had no intention of returning to them.

Virgil gleaned the essentials from the broken bits the other two would let slip. He couldn’t help but wonder if it somehow was related to him. Dark energy attacking the imagination? It didn’t seem too far a stretch. He sat beside the dozing Prince, with his sword on his lap.

_Just in case._

*

Patton had locked and barricaded his door, but so far it seemed unnecessary.

_Of course, they are not going to check on you, they all have their hands full…_

Hiding under his bed, Patton tried to distract himself by looking through photo albums. Maybe if he could numb himself enough, he could stop…

He could stop…

He could stop, what, exactly?

Patton had no clue what was going on, but one thing was sure – he was hurting his family. Being the eldest side in all the mindscape, Patton knew his powers and influence could stretch far beyond what he employed them for. Emotions, far more than logic or creativity or even pure anxiety, could change the world…

Or destroy it.

Patton’s fists clenched. Someone must be influencing him, and he had a solid guess who.

“My, my, my, what DO we have here?”

Patton yelped at the sudden voice and appearance of Deceit. Scrambling up, he made sure to put a few steps distance between them. He eyed the snake suspiciously.

“No need for the glare, you summoned me oh dear Padre.” Deceit purred, but he failed to hide the note of curiosity in his statement.

“What have you done to me?”

“I know exactly what you are talking about.”

Patton balled his fists. His family was in danger – he was hurting them. Romans expression of pure fear was something Patton had never seen before. And it was an expression directed at him. The air started to crackle and pop slightly. Patton just wanted to wipe the smug look off Deceits face.

But, as always with his anger, he caught himself and coughed.

“What do you have against Roman?”

“Nothing. He isn’t annoying at all and he never acts like a massive child when he doesn’t get his way. Roman has many redeeming qualities about him.”

Patton took a few moments to breathe through his nose.

“Deceit, this is your only warning. If you don’t tell me what you know or what you’re doing to me I swear I will make your life a living hell until you do.”

The fire in his eyes and venom in his tone made Deceit balk at the threat. He gave a nervous laugh, taking a step back. He felt the power of the situation tipping out of his favour. So, he reacted how any snake would.

Strike and retreat.

 “Listen Patton, all I know is that you are an overcrowding parent who is driving away everything you love, and you can stop trying to pin that on me.”

Strike.

There was silence.

But no retreat could be made.

*

Roman’s grip on Virgil’s hand got so tight that the latter yelped slightly. The Prince began convulsing and Logan leapt up from his exhaustion to spring into action.

“Get Patton.”

Virgil looked at Logan in horror, but the panic of the logical side was clear.

“I…I…can’t…” Roman gasped in an awfully constrained voice. Logan began to inspect his airway, finding it clogged with…

“No…”

Virgil, who had begun to leave, turned back at the cry.

“Lo, what’s wrong?”

“It’s…its inside him…Its choking him…” Logan looked so tired and scared that Virgil had to fight off a panic attack, but Logan took a breath. “Virgil you need to go get Patton. I will begin CPR.”

Logan tried to shelve everything and just work but this…this could not be happening.

_Patton’s killing him._

The Prince had turned a sickly shade of blue, while coughing and spluttering black goo everywhere. CPR didn’t help, so Logan tried another method. He grabbed a bucket, and then aided Roman in making himself throw up. This managed to dislodge enough so that Roman could draw in a scratchy breath of life, but Logan was just beginning to see that the beneath the bandages, black goo was seeping out…

Virgil banged on Patton’s door in a blur of confused panic. He couldn’t even muster a sound from his own choked throat, but he was making enough noise to wake the dead.

Deceit appeared in the living room, sporting a bloody nose and gasped at the sight of the dying Prince.

“WHERE IS PATTON?” Logan screamed, not even registering Deceit.

Deceit gulped, suddenly glad he escaped with only a broken nose.

Virgil began to throw his entire weight against the door, not wanting to hear Logan scream ever again. He ignored the pain that spiked in his shoulder…

Roman was now breathing okay, but by his frequent and violent spasming Logan deduced that the thing was squeezing the life out of him from the inside. The Prince looked scared and it occurred to Logan that Roman never had been great at defeating enemies that he couldn’t stab.

“Lo…it’s okay…”

“Roman you will be perfectly fine I…maybe if I flush your system out…or a neutralising injection...”

“Go…”

“Don’t tell me to go, you ungrateful brat! I’ve just spent 24 hours trying to save your ass and I am not failing now.”

Roman struggled and convulsed again.

“I don’t want…you to see…”

Virgil chose that moment to run into the room, tears streaming down his face.

_Patton had never ignored him before._

Roman’s eyes focused on Virgil’s. He even managed a small smile.

“Virgil, I…I need to tell you something. I…I…”

Virgil froze.

His attention wasn’t pulled away by the fact that Logan was crying.

He didn’t even balk at the sight of a shocked and scared Deceit quickly sinking out.

No, Virgil’s attention was suddenly behind the stricken sides, as a hand of black goo was rising out of Roman’s sick bucket and reaching for the silver sword on the ground.

“ _ **NO!**_ ”

It happened quicker than Virgil could move, and suddenly there was a sword in Roman’s chest.

For the second time that night, a door came crashing into the hallway.


End file.
